


Giving Thanks, Berserker-Style

by goldenteaset



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Food Porn, Gen, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, POV Alternating, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: Catalysts come from the strangest things.Or: You can't have a (verybelated) Thanksgiving dinner without the God of Agriculture around; it's just not done.





	Giving Thanks, Berserker-Style

**Author's Note:**

> It turns out Herc is the biggest eater of the F/SN cast, with Lancer and Saber close behind him. (Makes sense: he's the biggest in general!) So I took a break from editing "A Demanding Heart" to play around with that thought. :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Grand Order.

Somewhere in the Throne of Heroes, Heracles lifts his head and sniffs.

It’s the scent of meat cooking—not unusual in his private marble coliseum, where he can summon food whenever he wants. The unusual thing is that he also feels the mental tug of a Mage’s call. A familiar Mage, whose months-long insistence _would_ be entertaining if not for their bad timing. _Well,_ _I’m not in the middle of skinning a boar today. A nap can wait._

The coliseum is a long way from his fellow Heroes. Most of the time, he doesn’t mind. His fellow Greek Heroes live closer to the ocean, befitting their home in life. (From time to time, Leonidas can be heard miles away chewing out his "muscle-headed" men.) Heracles can cross the green fields and stroll along the white sands when he pleases.

And yet…

He yawns, shaking his heavy dark hair out of his eyes. He’ll miss this sunlit apple tree, and the velvet-soft lion pelt he prefers to sleep on. Right now he craves something else. The more the scent of cooking meat floats past his nose, the more his stomach rumbles.

Heracles holds out his hand, as if to clasp another's. _It’s decided._ _I’ll go at once!_

The Mage’s spell wraps around him like Zeus’ lightning. In an electric burst, he soars across space and time. (It’s a double of him, or something akin to it. He’s no scholar.)

Stars spread out around him, turning into smears of white. As he travels, he feels his mind warp and shudder. _Why can’t I move_ faster _? At this rate, the food will be cooked and eaten!_

He gains speed. The smell of crisped meat and spices grows stronger.

His skin turns a sickly gray, hard as stone. He can hear people laughing, the sound of cutlery, the roar of a cooking fire—

_—WAIT FOR ME!_

A heartbeat. White light bursts into being; he surges forward. His body converts from spirit to flesh, and he arrives.

“Wh…wha…?” Something’s squeaking like a mouse before him.

He peers down and sees his Master, in the middle of handing a red-haired man a plate of food. The man takes one look at the new Berserker and bolts, leaving his meal behind.

A guttural snarl beyond human understanding bursts from Berserker’s throat. “ _HELLO._ ” That’s what he means to say.

“…Oh. Hello,” his Master says, her voice clear even in his madness. “I’m…well, y’know who I am. Want some food? You can come meet everyone, too—they’re waiting in the dining hall.”

He throws back his head and roars in delight.

\---

_Suddenly, this Thanksgiving dinner became a battlefield...I hope we have an extra table ready!_

Mash stares as Heracles and Asterios hold a cleaned wishbone precariously between their huge fingers. Each stands opposite each other at the miles-long metal table. The white overhead lights cast their shadows like huge nets across the dining hall. 

“Yeah, like that,” Sempai calls from beside Mash at the head of the table.

“I’m betting on Heracles!” Caster Cu calls, as the other Servants crowd around to watch.

Euryale won’t have that. “You can do it, Asterios!” She rests her delicate hand on his elbow, turning his cheeks pink.

Emiya’s voice pierces the air. “Whoever moves out of my way first gets _my_ vote of confidence.”

A crowd of Riders step aside to let Emiya and his towering stack of tableware pass through unscathed. _Clink-clink-clink_ goes the glass.

The remains of ( _very_ belated) Thanksgiving dinner are being whisked away by Emiya and the other cooks. Fried sweet potatoes, spicy stuffing, roast turkey and crisp apple pie, Chaldea’s staff ate it all. _On second thought, Heracles put away the most food._   _And here Dr. Roman worried we’d run out!_

Asterios turns his shaggy head to look at Sempai. “Master…do we…start now?”

Sempai nods eagerly. “Yeah! Pull it carefully. Whoever gets the biggest piece of the wishbone gets their wish granted!” She holds up her hands and laughs. “Not like how the Holy Grail grants wishes, though. It’s just a superstition.”

Mash and the other Servants sigh in relief. _W_ _hat would someone like Heracles wish for?_

Sempai doesn't seem to notice. "Ready...?" She makes a chopping motion with her hand. "Go!"

Heracles growls. Asterios nods in agreement. With the slightest of tugs they pull back—and the wishbone splits perfectly down the middle.

The two Berserkers roar and clap each other on the back excitedly. The force of it rumbles through Chaldea, but everyone else seems too happy to care. 

It’s hard to think with a full belly, but there’s something Mash has to ask.

“Um, Sempai, can I ask you something?”

Sempai turns to her and smiles. “Sure, Mash. What’s up?”

“Well…why do you think Heracles showed up _now?_ From the beginning, even thirty Saint Quartz couldn’t tempt him.” Mash sighs and adjusts her glasses. “It just seems strange, that’s all.”

Sempai laughs and shrugs. “Maybe he wanted to give thanks?”

Mash cringes at the pun. “First Dr. Roman, now you too?”

“Sorry. Who knows why he came here? What matters is how much fun we’re having together.”

Then Marie floats by, and asks Sempai hundreds of questions concerning Thanksgiving. Mash watches Sempai answer as best she can, her smile a little sad. Mash soon realizes why: _That’s right; she can’t visit her family this year, not after what happened. Maybe the events in America reminded her?_

The ground shakes under Mash’s feet. She looks up, expecting Asterios—but instead it’s Heracles. He’s smaller than Asterios, but he makes up for that in muscle mass and…presence. It’s hard to read him, and maybe it always will be.

Heracles says nothing. He turns his hand palm down and drops his piece of wishbone on the table by Sempai’s hand. With that he strides over to a couch and sits motionless, like someone flipped an “off” switch inside him.

Marie giggles and turns Sempai’s attention to the table. “Look, Master! Monsieur Heracles gave you something.”

Sempai doesn’t miss a beat as she picks up the bone and slips it into her uniform pocket. “I’ll have to thank him later, huh.”

While anyone else might see that as Sempai brushing Heracles off, Mash knows by now that isn’t the case. Sempai is the last Master in the world. And so, without question, she’ll find a way to thank her new Servant for answering her call.      

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
